Bars of Steel
by amaretto and coke
Summary: (reposted due to formatting issues) Ryo likes Gui Zhang. And Gui Zhang likes Ryo. Will they ever bother to tell each other about it? Oh, the humanity! Please R&R.
1. Reluctance

I should have known better. From the moment I saw him, I could hardly take my eyes off him. You can chalk that up to whatever you please, my being a bodyguard or an overwhelming suspicion of his initial appearance as a clean-cut, well-mannered boy.

I wasn't quite sure why, myself. My father, recognizing in him a potential to do our organization harm through his charming naïveté, ordered me to protect him. I admit, I did my job with little desire or graciousness, taking every opportunity to show him how much I resented my forced labor. I hung up on him abruptly when he called, shutting my ears against his anxious pleas. When we met in person, I treated him coldly. But really, what else could I do? It would be pointless to tell him how I genuinely felt. Or so I thought.

I still remember that awful day in New Yokosuka Harbor. I was following him around as always, keeping a good distance away from him as he spoke with the owner of the Hokuhoku stand. I made a mental note to order a little bit of food when I saw him running in the general direction of the major cargo holds.

Where was he going? Who the hell knew? The kid was a born do-gooder if ever I saw one. But I _had_ promised my father…I gave chase. 

He was running here and there, stopping to pester the guards and workers. But finally he found his way and went behind a couple of oversized shipping trailers. I stopped near the edge of the wharf, close enough to hear without being detected.

The voices I heard were shrill and harsh, the voices of children, but with a strange, acrid tang. I peeked cautiously, and saw to my horror, Ryo lying on the ground, surrounded by girls in school uniforms.

Immediately throwing caution aside, I strode towards them purposefully. Two of the girls looked at me, their soft faces marred by cold eyes. "What's your problem, pops?"

"What's going on here?" I asked, my voice growing angry.

"None of your damn business! You want us to slit your throat, like we did with this punk?"

I hissed derisively. "You're certainly welcome to try."

They darted towards me, imprudent in their pride. I tripped one, casting her aside easily. The other swung a pipe at me, but I caught it between my two palms, twisting it out of her grasp. Unarmed and scowling, she broke a bottle and swung wildly. I stepped backwards, nearly bumping into the third girl behind me. Our eyes met for a fraction of a second and she whimpered, "Please be careful."

I tensed, waited. My father was teaching me a move that emphasized hand tension. I had seen him shatter crates with mere thrusts of his fingers. Would it be effective on glass? I could only hope as the irate girl moved my way. Fortunately, circumstances made it unnecessary. She tripped on a forgotten board and fell to the ground.

I looked at the other girl. Her face was twisted with fear as she avoided my gaze and looked down at Ryo. I knelt beside him to examine his wound. It was pretty serious, but he would heal easily with bed rest. I turned him over as he groaned helplessly.

"This is all my fault," the girl said softly.

I stood, brushing the dust from my slacks. "Are you his friend?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Then stay here. I'll be right back."

I went home as quickly as I could manage, more than once cursing the ridiculous amount of traffic that I encountered. As I entered the warehouse impetuously, my father looked up, surprised.

"Father…" I stopped and bowed to him rather abruptly. "I must have your car."

"But w…" The word trailed off as he met my eyes. "I see. Drive it carefully."

Within fifteen more minutes, I was driving in the general direction of Dobuita, glancing at the hastily scribbled directions I had received from the girl. I grunted angrily as I attempted to navigate the narrow, populous streets. "Damned hillside towns," I muttered. "Damn this kid. Who needs all this hassle?"

The streets became perceptibly more narrow as I entered Sakuragaoka. I slowed my speed as I approached a group of children playing the street. Not wanting to miss my way, I stopped the car and beckoned to a young girl in a bright red jumper to approach. She came, hesitantly.

"Yes, sir?"

"Where is Ryo Hazuki's house?"

"The street past the Yamanose shrine takes you right to it."

"Thank you." I put the BMW in gear and started again slowly as Ryo gasped for air.

I looked at him as I turned up a street and past the ancient-looking shrine. "Hazuki, sit still."

He tried to speak, but failed. I pulled up at a wooden gate, looking anxiously at the hand-painted nameplate. I had made it rather quickly; only fifteen minutes had elapsed from beginning to end. I've had entire days that felt shorter. 

I helped him out of the car and supported him against my body as I walked him to his front door. My face didn't show my concern; it never did. But I felt fear for his sake. His body felt boneless as I held him up. Was he in shock?

"Ryo-san!" A voice behind me made me crane my neck as a stocky Japanese man ran up. He immediately opened the door for us, and helped me carry him to his room. He leaned over the boy. "What happened to him? Is he alright?"

"Go get some hydrogen peroxide and gauze strips. We need to sterilize this cut right away."

The man bowed and left, returning shortly. He had just as many questions as before, but I couldn't answer them immediately, needing to concentrate. So I shooed him away curtly, telling him that I would talk with him as soon as I was done attending to Ryo.

He backed into a corner of the room, in order to have the best possible chance of assaulting me with questions as soon as I finished. And as I carefully cleaned and covered Ryo's wound, I was almost glad that someone else was in the room. The physical contact that I made with Ryo involved a lot of facial adjustments, and I could hardly be insensible to the novelty of stroking someone's face, deprived as I was of the chance to exert any sort of emotion.

"Do you think that he needs stitches?" the stranger ventured to ask.

"It's possible." I stood and put the chair back in its accustomed place, underneath the desk. "Thank you for your help."

"Wait!" The voice was pleading and grating and very irksome. "What happened to Ryo? You gotta tell me!" He grabbed my arm, but let go after feeling me grow rather tense.

"I'm not entirely sure. I saw him injured in the harbor, and I brought him home. Don't grab me again."

He stepped back, uncertain. "Was it Lan Di?"

"No. I'm going now."

"Wait…" He came after me once more as I walked out of the house's entryway. "What's your name?"

"You don't need to know it." I got in the car and shut the door, ignoring the rest of his inane questions as I began my drive home.

I needed a little time to myself, time to think about what I had just done and how I felt about it. I parked the car in a small garage, and walked the short distance to Dobuita's Red Light District. 

I wasn't particularly hungry or thirsty, but the desire for a stiff drink was nearly overwhelming at this point. But first things first…as I entered the closest bar, I asked the barkeeper for a phone. He handed me his, with a scowl. He seemed suspicious that I wasn't actually going to buy anything.

I called home for any further instructions on my father's behalf. Upon finding none, I asked him if he wanted some Chinese food for a change. He agreed and I made another mental note before calling the barkeeper back over. 

"What?"

"Bombay Sapphire and Tonic. Neat."

"Excellent choice." The man pulled down a shimmering blue bottle and expertly measured out 2 ounces of the premium gin into a ice-cold rock glass, before filling it with tonic water and adding a lime wedge. He set the glass in front of me on an elaborate cocktail napkin. "You enjoy, sir."

I took my glass and my napkin away from the bar to a more comfortable and more obscure booth. I sipped slowly and pondered for a while as I savored the bitter flavor.

What was Hazuki's goal? One thing that my father had taught me, and taught me well, was that motives were rarely, if ever, clear. Could his sole motivation be vengeance? Perhaps he wanted to prove himself? He was the last claimant of the Hazuki style.

I chewed my straw into fragments. That line of thought hardly made sense. Who would seek to prove themselves by choosing the Chi You Men as antagonists? It was inconceivable. Furthermore, warriors with his level of discipline didn't go around starting fights. Well…

I thought back to the pervasive anger that colored his speeches in all of our meetings. What if it really _had_ been my father? Would I also be running about frantically, grabbing at straws and the faintest hopes to keep me sane?

"Hi, there. Want some company?"

I was startled out of my reverie by a woman sitting next to me. I sat up a little straighter as I inwardly cursed my inattention. I hadn't even seen where she had come from! That damned Hazuki kid…he was making me forget just about every lesson my father had taught me.

I looked at her as she gave me a smile too bright to be genuine. She was rather pretty, with short blonde hair and a denim miniskirt. I vaguely recalled seeing her once or twice in the harbor area, wearing a blue and white striped shirt with a tan fishing vest. Now, however, she had on a much more flattering rugby style shirt and stylish sandals. Very nice legs. I slid away from her. "No."

"Aw, come on. I see you around at Yokosuka sometimes. You're always alone." She scooted after me, actually touching my thigh this time. "Let's spend a little time together…you and me?"

I looked at her again as I drank, trying to determine whether or not I had missed anything in my first appraisal. She didn't seem like a prostitute. An informant, maybe? I finished my gin and tonic and set the glass down. "Not interested."

She pouted, an obvious affectation. Perhaps she thought that I was more intoxicated than I actually was. "I got something nice for you…" She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt, and I looked away with an exasperated sigh. She used the opportunity to drape her calf over my own. "Just 15000 yen, and I'm yours for the night."

"What makes you think that I have 15000 yen?"

She smiled again, having gotten a complete sentence out of me at last. "This is a wool suit, and _this –_ " she caressed my chest pointedly – "is a silk tie. Oh, you've got money, baby. Live a little. Unwind for the night."

"Once again, not interested." I brushed her off and stood, taking the opportunity to check for my wallet. I took it out to pay for the drink and noted how quickly her eyes latched onto the money inside. Turning my back on her, I handed 1200 yen to the barkeeper, who thanked me in a surly voice. But my offense was quelled; I could see that my behavior had little to do with his attitude. He was just naturally quarrelsome.

I left the bar and turned to the left quickly. I could feel eyes boring into my skin as I passed several other establishments on the way to Ajiichi Chinese Restaurant, and I knew that I was being assessed as a potential mugging victim. The thought barely penetrated my consciousness, to be honest. I don't think that I could even remember the last time that I was genuinely afraid.

I collected my purchase quickly and was making my way back towards the garage that my car was parked in when I was accosted once again by the same woman. Her smile had gone from bright to feral. Maybe it was the darkness. Maybe it was _her _darkness.

"You know, guys don't normally turn me down."

"There's always a first time."

"I suppose so. You're not Japanese, are you? You're Chinese?"

"I'll leave that up to you to determine."

"You're not connected with the Mad Angels, are you? I see you all the time at Yokosuka. Always shipping and delivering packages. You wouldn't be doing anything…_untoward,_ would you?"

I stopped and faced her. "Are you a police officer?"

"Of sorts."

I continued to walk; she continued to give chase. "Unless you plan to arrest me and charge me, I suggest you leave me alone. Otherwise, you might find yourself with a 'harassment' complaint on your record." By this time, I was at the car, unlocking the door. She stood there defiantly. "I'll keep that in mind, Gui Zhang Chen. Meanwhile, you and your father keep your noses clean."

"You do the same. And keep yours out of my business." I started up the car and drove off quickly, leaving her behind in the night. 


	2. Bewilderment

I woke up later on in the day. This harbor business was sucking the life out of me. As I tried to sit up, I felt excruciating pain in my neck and collapsed again, groaning.

"Ryo-san! You're finally awake!" Fukuhara turned around from where he had been sitting, namely, my desk. "Lie down! You need to take it easy."

"What happened?" I croaked.

"I'm not real sure…your throat's been slit. The guy who brought you home wouldn't tell me much. Man…what a jerk he was."

"Huh?" I tried to roll over, but quickly came to the conclusion that it would be a bad idea. So I stayed on my back to ease the dull ache around my throat. "Who brought me home?"

Fuku stood his head. "His face was stone-cold. And he was really rude. He wouldn't tell me his name. He just said that you'd been hurt and might need stitches."

I placed my knuckles against the laceration, testing for pain. The gash was pretty deep; I probably _would_ need some stitches. Damn. I couldn't even protect Mai. Some warrior I was turning out to be.

"…do you know who he is?"

"Yeah. Bring me some water, will you?"

He left the room and I tried to collect my thoughts. That description wouldn't fit anyone other than Gui Zhang Chen. So he was the one who had saved me! But I remembered something else; the caress of his hands on my face. It was a vague, hazy memory, but I recalled it quite well. Not once or twice, but several times, he had stroked me while I lay helpless. Why? I had always been under the distinct impression that he despised me.

Did he?

"Here." Fuku lifted me into a slightly more upright position, and handed me a cup. I drank gratefully, and he seemed relieved. "Ryo-san, who was that man?"

I cleared my throat, not without some pain. "His name is Gui Zhang Chen."

Fuku looked rather surprised. "He's Chinese? Ryo, did he did do this to you? What if he's connected with Lan Di?"

"Fuku-san!" I said, reproachfully. "It wasn't him. Stop it."

"But Ryo-san!"

His voice grated obnoxiously on my ears. I curled into a ball to get away as best I could. "Fuku, listen. Give me a little credit. I know what I'm doing, okay?"

Fuku slid away, face mournful. "Well…okay." The bed shifted as he stood. "I'll get Ine-san. She might know who has the right type of materials for stitching."

I sat up so fast that I nearly collapsed. "Damn it, Fukuhara! Don't tell Ine! You can't tell her anything about this!"

"Should I tell Nozomi?"

"NO!" I sank back onto the bed, weak with pain. His sense of timing was practically non-existent. "Look…if you insist on leaving the house, just go to Honda Drugstore and buy the stuff we need. You _can_ do that without blabbing, right?"

"All right…" He left the room and I closed my eyes, overextended. For a brief moment, I wished that Gui Zhang hadn't left, shortly before I succumbed to the bliss of sleep.

I was jarred awake as the bed shifted again. The light from the hallway seemed so dim and watery as my eyes slowly opened. Fukuhara was sitting at the foot of my bed, rummaging through a small burlap sack. I tried to move, but found no strength to do so. "What time is it?"

"It's just four o'clock. I got some of the newer stitching tape, and a couple of needles. And some antiseptic. Lie down, and I'll get to work."

"Fuku-san, you know how to do stitches?"

"Sure! Hazuki-sensei taught me how when I split my chin once. See?" He showed me an old, faded scar. I could hardly see it. "I did them myself."

I squinted. "Wow. Maybe you should have been a doctor."

"Stop, Ryo." He adjusted the pillow behind me, forcing me to sit up a little bit. "Now, tell me if this begins to _really_ hurt."

I lay alone in the dark, wide awake and full of questions. Occasionally, I felt my neck, searching for the only tangible evidence I had of this wild day. The pain was sharp; the stitches were rough. Beyond that, I had precious little else to go on. Hisaka had called in the evening, sounding very concerned, and Mai had also called, apologizing tearfully. But the one person that I really wanted to hear from hadn't bothered to phone, and I wasn't bold enough to call him with Fukuhara hovering so close by. Knowing him, he'd just make a fine mess of things. Unintentionally, of course.

As it wasn't likely that I would get any answers, I decided to spend a little time playing _Space Harrier._ I got up and went into the living room quietly. But apparently I hadn't been quiet enough. As soon as the system booted up, Ine came right out of her room.

"Ryo-san!" Her voice was somewhat gentle, but there was definitely an edge to it. "I thought that I told you to keep out of trouble!"

"Ine-san, don't worry about me."

"How can I not? You're going out at all times of day and night, getting into fights…I even heard that you were trying to get a tattoo! And now you're always going out to Amihana and you've stopped talking to all of your friends…what's gotten into you?" She shook her head angrily, but her voice sounded so sad. "You're playing with fire, Ryo. I know that you want to avenge Hazuki-sensei, but you're starting to really worry me. You've become so self-destructive lately."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't act so innocently with me, Ryo Hazuki! I'm not blind. I can see that bandage around your neck. You've been hurt in a fight again. Fuku-san told me all about it."

I threw down the controller, flabbergasted. How could he be so incredibly stupid! "Ine-san!"

"Ryo-san, you promised me a while ago that you would let this go, and you haven't. I'm begging you, for my sake, to drop whatever grudge you have. Please, take care of the dojo, and live your life quietly, the way that your father lived his."

I sighed. I was going to have to lie to her. And worse yet, she wanted me to. We both knew that I wasn't about to do anything such thing, but she needed to hear it. So I put on my contrite face, and stood up to my full height. I took both of her hands in my own and looked her in the eyes. "I will, Ine-san."

She nodded, trying to convince herself. "Good night, Ryo-san." She went back through the paper screen that separated the common room from her bedroom, and I went back to my game.

My concentration was gone, though. After failing to reach the third stage several times in a row, I tossed the controller aside and went back to my room. I undressed and tried to sleep, but I could hardly manage to stay put on my back.

__

Why would Gui Zhang have touched me like that? He was a handsome man, and I didn't doubt that if he chose, he could be very charming. Rich, mature, physically appealing…it would not have surprised me at all to find that he had several lovers. Was he toying with me? 

Gingerly, I turned myself on my side and adjusted the pillow in order to compensate for my neck's reduced range of motion. I was hardly offended by the seduction of a man; rather, I wished that I had been more cognizant of his embrace. I wanted the opportunity to present itself again, but it didn't seem likely. Disappointed, but resigned, I finally dropped off to sleep.

After an exhausting and fruitless day of hunting information in Yokosuka Harbor and Dobuita, I decided to head home and work off some tension in the dojo. I ran up the main road in Sakuragaoka, waving to the kids as I passed by. I loved to run. It made me feel as though I was flying. But as I passed by the ever-present construction site, the hair on the back of my neck began to prickle. 

The entire way home, it had sounded like an extra set of footsteps had been trailing me, but I had chalked that up to the crowds in Dobuita. But here I was in the suburb of Sakuragaoka, which was significantly more quiet, and yet the footsteps remained. Odd.

I slowed my pace to a walk as I turned towards the Yamanose road, and finally I stopped walking altogether. A long shadow extended its reach onto the large pile of earth to my right. It was clearly the shadow of a fully grown man. I turned sharply to see Gui Zhang Chen behind me, with that same expressionless expression he always wore.

My heart leapt, and not entirely through fear of his motives. "What do you want?"

He was silent.

I stared at him, taken aback by his wordlessness. The air was suddenly oppressive. "What are you doing here? Why did you follow me home?"

He was silent.

Fear began to constrict around my heart in an icy grip. What if Fuku-san's hunch had been right after all? My voice was not as strong as I would have liked it to be. "Are you with Lan Di, too?"

He was silent.

"Damn it!" I got into my accustomed stance, determined to defend myself.

He grunted as he prepared to attack me. The last time that I had seen this particular stance, his father had interrupted us, much to my relief. This time, though, it didn't look as though I would be so fortunate.

He walked towards me deliberately, striking terror into my heart. I couldn't believe it; I had just been fantasizing about this man not twenty-four hours ago, and he was going to attack me, possibly kill me? Nonetheless, I swung at him. He didn't take the bait, pushing my blow aside.

I kicked a short, sharp kick to his midsection. It didn't do much damage, but it shoved him back. I followed up with a set of spinning roundhouses that had never failed to knock the wind out of any previous opponent. Imagine my surprise, then, when he caught my last and strongest kick, and threw me to the ground!

I got up, sorely bruised, but regained my focus and struck his hip with a well-placed blow. He staggered a little, and I used one of my most difficult, but most dangerous moves: a long and high kick that struck both the face and feet. This time I had the immense satisfaction of seeing him fall to the ground.

We tussled for some time longer before our struggle ended, but on the whole I definitely got the worst of it. Every attempt to throw him, every combination…he managed to dilute and negate them all. I couldn't understand it. The worst part was knowing every time that he struck me, every time that he threw me, was quite possibly my last. I had the distinct impression that he was only playing, and that he could easily end my life, should the mood overtake him.

At last, though, he seemed to grow weary, and stepped back. I remained on my guard, though I was quite relieved to be allowed some respite.

"I have to stop, otherwise, I'll fail as your bodyguard."

He stared at me coldly; I could feel his gaze go through me, and I trembled. My voice reflected my dismay. "What do you mean?"

He shook his head in disbelief at my thickheaded question. "You still don't get it, do you? You have no idea how important you are."

My mouth went dry. Could it be? Was I important…to _him_?

"If you were to be killed, it would cause…problems…for us."

Damn it! I gulped and once again asked him to explain himself.

With a long-suffering sigh, he explained, in his own sardonic, taciturn way. I could hardly believe what he told me, although naturally I had no call to accuse him of lying. Another mirror! Had my father died for nothing?

"Get the other mirror for us, Hazuki. When you get it, call my father." He turned away from me and walked towards the darkened, gloomy hill that led back to Dobuita.

I went home myself, sparring with Fuku-san for a while in the dojo, praying at the hand-carved altar, even speaking at some length with Ine-san. Nine p.m. came quickly, and I went to bed, careful to lie on my back. My neck was still a little sore.

I lay awake for a little while, thinking about this new event that had transpired. Another mirror? Perhaps it was somewhere in the house? My father had all kinds of secrets hidden all over our house; it had been a monastery at one time, and secret compartments were everywhere. I thought about the different possibilities, but inevitably my thoughts went back to the fight itself. 

As ridiculous as it was, I had noticed something else about Gui Zhang while he was beating the tar out of me. He had very smooth hands. I wrinkled my forehead. How could someone with such a high caliber of fighting skill keep his hands so well maintained? And why had his throws felt so soft…almost caressing? I shivered to remember it, but envied the happy person who was fortunate enough to feel those hands in a stroking sense.

I struggled to regain some sense of composure. The days ahead would bring plenty of problems of their own without me worrying about something as senseless as a crush. But somehow…I wanted to occupy his thoughts as fully as he dwelt in mine. Was it possible? The puzzle remained unsolved as I fell deeply asleep.


	3. Confrontation

It wasn't particularly easy to get a job in New Yokosuka Harbor. I had known all along that it wouldn't be, even after Jimmy Yan had led me there quite directly. No one there wanted the responsibility of watching a high school punk. But still, my lack of visible progress was irksome at the very least.

I stared at the stone mirror that I held in my hand as I loitered around the Tomato Convenience Store. This piece of carved rock…it was responsible for so much turmoil and anguish. Had someone else lost a dear loved one for its sake? I tucked it back in my pocket. I could hardly stand to look at it.

Just then, Goro Mihashi came strutting up with a loud, "Yo, Bro!" I straightened up quickly to meet him. "What's up?"

"How ya doin', man?" he asked in his exaggerated manner. I shrugged as we made a few minutes of small talk. As the conversation began to die off, my mind began to wander again. What did I hope to find in this harbor? Answers? Lan Di?

__

Him?

"So, man, they tell me you're cuttin' class. What's the deal? You're supposed to be a good student, y'know?"

"Yeah," I said absentmindedly, but a singular thought suddenly took priority. "Goro, could you get me a job here?"

__

"Work?" He seemed shocked, but nonetheless thought about it in his standard, melodramatic way. He sprang up so quickly that it caught me off guard. "Sure! Come back here tomorrow and I'll have it all hooked up!"

I thanked him and left quickly.

As promised, he had helped me get in with the foreman, and rather sooner than I could have expected, I was put to work driving a forklift. The job was about as fun as you'd imagine, which meant not at all. The two hour lunch was an unforeseen blessing, and I took full advantage of it to train myself hard in an empty warehouse.

As I left, warm with exertion, a small paper envelope fell from my pocket. I picked it up, glancing over it casually. It was a maneuver that I was completely unfamiliar with, and to compound matters, it was written in Chinese.

Somehow, it seemed too perverse a turn of fate to be quite true. I checked my watch; I had well over forty minutes left. Running, I reached the phone booth near the entrance in record time and dialed an all-too familiar number with trembling hands.

A gruff voice answered. "Father's Heaven."

"Nine Dragons," I replied.

"Mother's Earth."

"Comrades."

The voice announced itself as belonging to Warehouse Number 8, and I asked to speak with Master Chen. I could hear the handset being shuffled about, and my heart began to pound. Could I face seeing him again?

"What is it?"

I asked for Master Chen, shyly. His son informed me, rather rudely as usual, that he wasn't there. Frantically, I tried to think of a plausible excuse to come anyway. "Would you be willing to see me, then?"

He grumbled, but relented. "If you must."

I was standing outside of Old Warehouse Number 8 within minutes, wondering at my own folly. This crush was impossible. I needed to go home and be reasonable, the way that everyone was begging me to do. But then, I never was one for doing much of anything I was told to do.

The inside of the warehouse smelled acrid and metallic, much in the way of corroded metal. Dust floated through the air as I approached Gui Zhang, who stood in the middle of the room waiting for me. He looked at me piercingly. "What is it?"

"What is this?" I handed him the scroll to look over. "It was in my father's basement."

"Hmm." He pressed his lips into a thin line as he scanned the parchment. "It seems to be called 'Stab Armor'. One step back, two forward, and you use your weight to thrust your palms into an attacker. Interesting. Apparently the maneuver is powerful enough to break through most defenses." He fell silent as he read the instructions once again. "Well, it's not entirely clear to me, seeing how it's not my style. But follow the basic gist and you should get it down." He handed the scroll to me.

I accepted, opening my mouth to speak. Naturally, all power of speech failed me. At such a time, there was so much to say that the thoughts canceled each other out. I closed my mouth again, feeling more than a little foolish.

He twisted his mouth at my silence. I flattered myself that he seemed a little disappointed. "I've got work to do." He didn't say anymore, but he hardly needed to. The unspoken 'get out' made me nod my head twice and leave.

Though I left, I couldn't stay away. The very next day, I was entering the warehouse again, asking him about a scroll that I had found in the family dojo. He glanced at me somewhat suspiciously as he looked over it. Clearing his throat, he began to read.

The scroll, in actuality, was a poem. As he read, my mind drifted, lulled by his monotone. His voice sounded so far away, as if it was coming from the bottom of a well. It was soothing, comforting. I wished that it would never end.

"…this is Secret Poetry Style."

My confusion must have shown on my face, as he continued immediately. "Only the Master who wrote this can fully explain it."

Yet another mystery. Would they ever end? I mused aloud. "Why would my father have this?"

"No idea. But you should hang on to it. Maybe you'll meet the Master who wrote it someday, and he will tell you what it means."

I thanked him for his time, and he dismissed me ingraciously, as was his wont. I walked away into the dusk, as bewildered as before I had come.

What had happened to me? My desire had been to avenge my father's death. It had seemed so cut and dried at the time. But the whole situation was becoming murky and sullied before my eyes. My father, whom I thought that I knew like the back of my hand, was responsible for taking someone else's life. The dojo, which had always been so welcoming and familiar, was full of secrets from China. The serenity was gone, replaced by trepidation. My life felt…shattered.

Dimly, I heard footsteps behind me. Purposeful footsteps. I turned, gasped, and ducked just in time to avoid getting a face full of shoe leather as Gui Zhang Chen went flying over my back. Quickly, I reacted by backpedaling as he walked towards me aggressively.

"You…!" I spluttered, shocked by the ambush.

"Hmph," he taunted as he stared me down. "You can hardly handle the Mad Angels. What are you going to do against Lan Di?"

I scowled, annoyed. "I don't need this. I'm going home."

"Wait." His voice arrested me, and I stood still, although I didn't bother to actually face him. "I came out here to teach you something, if you're willing to learn."

My ego bruised, I accepted sulkily. He scolded me, further wounding my pride, but eventually we got down to business and he showed me a quick, graceful kick. I practiced it for a little bit before pronouncing myself satisfied, and turned to leave again. The soft clicking of heels to my left told me that he hadn't left my side, and we walked some way in mutual silence.

We reached the end of the pier together, and I stared into the sunset, suddenly feeling quite lonesome as the melancholy breeze ruffled my hair. I looked over to the left, and he was looking down at the water. "Why teach me that move?"

He looked up, startled out of his reverie. "Well…" He turned his head away from me, staring at the ground. "If it _had_ been my father…I'd be doing the same thing you are." He turned his back on me abruptly and walked away.

I sat down on the edge of the dock for a while, feeling cold inside. Almost nothing in my life was clear anymore.

One thing, however, was crystal clear. The Mad Angels were aware of my presence. Apparently I wasn't being as discreet as I should have been in my interrogations. The daily fights were beginning to build in intensity, and starting to involve my coworkers and friends. Mark got the snot pounded out of him one day; two days later it was Goro. I went home at night feeling bitter, comforted only in my knowledge that Lan Di was connected to all of it. His presence gave me something to direct my boiling hatred against. Otherwise, I would have ended up as delinquent and troublesome as any one of those punks in the harbor.

After yet another scuffle, this time with my old nemesis Tony Abrams, I came across a particularly useful scrap of information. A "long zha" was about to take place, possibly explaining why the Mad Angels were so high-strung lately. Apparently it was big news, big enough to draw Lan Di. I practically ran to the pay phone to call Master Yobun Chen, who had me over later that evening.

I asked him for something, anything, about the upcoming Long Zha. He tersely explained that it was, in fact, a drug deal. It did not directly involve Lan Di, as only the lowly ranks of the Chi You Men were involved. However, Terry Ryan, the leader of this local branch of Mad Angels, was escorting Lan Di to a tanker. He was going to Hong Kong.

The Chens' problem with Terry, however, was far simpler. The two of them were in direct competition for a trade route from China. The Chens imported antiques and valuables; the Mad Angels wanted their drugs. The tension over the trade route was fast approaching critical mass.

"Now you see what's going on," Gui Zhang finished, on his father's behalf. He put his hand on my shoulder, in a rare show of magnanimity. "Go home, Hazuki. There's no need for you to get yourself involved."

I jerked my shoulder away, bristling against his patronizing attitude. Besides, my stomach had quivered when he touched me, and I didn't want to even consider the implications of that. "No! I won't let Lan Di go."

"Fine." He turned away sullenly, though his face betrayed no variation of expression. I turned to his father. "Master Chen, I've _got_ to go to Hong Kong. Please, help me!"

He rejected my request with a brusque wave of the hand. "I will hear no more on this matter tonight." He left the ground floor, and his son followed suit. Impotent frustration welling up inside of me, I left the warehouse shortly thereafter.

If somehow I had figured that the attacks would lessen due to Terry's preoccupation with Lan Di, I was sorely mistaken. That night, I received a phone call from Chai, a troublesome opponent whose motives were vague at best. The Mad Angels had Nozomi, luring me into a plainly obvious trap. I had no choice in the matter but to do as they demanded, though; leaving her in their hands was unthinkable.

The ordeal was over more quickly than I could process, culminating in a meeting with Terry. He made a request of me, and in return, I made a request of him. He agreed to my terms with little haggling, and I was forced into another impossible situation: I had to fight Master Chen's son and injure him badly.

How? I hadn't been able to defeat him in a fight yet. The suicidal nature of the whole matter made me nauseous, more so when I recalled how I felt about him. His hand on my shoulder…I trembled and Nozomi clung to me, reminding me that she was still actually there.

I dropped her off at home and she thanked me, though I was hardly aware of it. How was I ever supposed to beat Gui Zhang Chen?

The next day, my situation only grew worse. Due to the many fights that I had found myself in, I was fired from my job. My friend, Tom, left for America the same day, leaving me with only memories and a lethal spinning kick.

That night, I wandered about the harbor until I ran into Satoshi Nagata, who seemed surprised that I hadn't backed out. "You got balls, kid. I'll give you that."

"Is he coming?"

"Yeah, he usually comes this way at night."

I turned. A quite recognizable silhouette blocked the light from between two buildings. "There he is."

Nagata acknowledged Gui Zhang's presence, then said sharply, "I'm outta here. Good luck beatin' this guy."

As he came closer to the cul-de-sac, I stepped out into a pool of light cast by a lone streetlamp. He slowed his pace, then stopped altogether. His voice was a little perplexed. "Hazuki? Why are you here?"

I steeled myself, putting on my best game face. "I'm here to fight you."

For a fraction of a second, his face actually registered surprise. Just as quickly, he smoothed it away, reverting to his usual stoic look. "What?"

"Come on! Quit stalling!" I shouted. In the distance behind him, I could see Terry and the Mad Angels moving around restlessly. If only this bluff worked…

If only….

Animosity had seeped into his tone. "What?!"

I got into my stance.

And he got into his.

I feinted as he rushed me, pushing him back with a soft kick. But our moves soon became forceful, brutal. He rattled my jaw with a sharp connection, and I stumbled. I recovered quickly enough to catch him in an armlock. I gave his arm a sharp twist and heard him hiss with pain.

"Gui Zhang," I whispered frantically, "pretend to lose."

He looked back at me, eyes narrow with suspicion.

"Please," I begged as he struggled to get loose. "This is the only way I can meet Lan Di."

He broke free and stared at me with amazement written all over his face. "You trust a punk like Terry?"

As the fight lengthened, our blows grew in intensity. He had been holding back, unsure of my motives. But now he was genuinely angry, and his moves reflected it. For my part, I had a role to play, and I did my best. He yelled at me to reconsider, but he should have known better. The grappling ended with both of us on the ground, gasping for breath and covered in bruises.

The sound of something metallic dragging against the concrete made me jump up. I grabbed Gui Zhang and rolled him out of the way, just as Terry Ryan planted a pipe in the ground where he had been. Infuriated, I chased him straight into another obvious trap.

If there's one thing that could be said in my favor, I wasn't afraid to fight, even if I wasn't known for my logical decisions. Late into that night, Gui Zhang and I fought the vast majority of the Mad Angels in Yokosuka, earning ourselves some memorable wounds, and finally meeting Terry only to find that his information was useless. 

Overcome with chagrin, I stared over the jet-black bay. We had been out there all night for nothing. A fit of weariness suddenly overtook me, and I let out a heartfelt sigh. "Father…"

Gui Zhang cleared his throat behind me. "Hazuki, you're hurt."

"So are you. So what."

He sighed impatiently. "C'mon, let me get you patched up before you go home."

I turned to stare at him. His voice sounded more genial, if not actually _friendly._ "I don't want Ine to worry."

"So call her and tell her you're with a friend. But I'm telling you those cuts are going to be infected if you don't get them looked after."

I was slow to accept. Ever since our quarrel had ended, I had been afraid to look into his eyes. I didn't know what I'd see. So to my surprise, I heard myself saying, "Okay."

The warehouse guard who patrolled the main entrance to the Old Warehouse District looked at us with a bit of astonishment as we entered the gate. My shirt was stained with blood, and Chen had a first-rate busted lip that was starting to swell up. He began to speak, but my companion silenced him with a formal wave of the hand. "My friend and I just had a little disagreement. We're all right now."

The old warehouse district was just full of surprises. Not only were there viable businesses operating out of it, but the storerooms themselves were even larger than they appeared at first glance. Behind the area for pottery and the storage crates in Warehouse 8, there was a door that no one ever noticed. It was this door that Ryo and I went through to find a safe place to lick our wounds in private.

This door led directly into a room that had once served as a storage shanty. I had taken a liking to it, and using some of the funds that my father had given to me, redecorated it in the style of a small studio apartment. The walls were whitewashed and clean, the dim light bulbs had been replaced with halogen lamps, and except for the omnipresent odor of rusted metal and sea salt, no one would have been able to tell that this room was simply a hiding hole, instead of an actual living space. It was well concealed from prying eyes, tucked away on the landlocked side of Warehouse 8.

I left him alone in the front as I went into the bathroom, searching for a well-stocked first aid kit. My breath caught in my throat as I bumped my ribs against the doorknob. Ryo was a little stronger than he seemed to think. But the pain was brief and dull, and I picked up the metal box, returning to the front room. He was nowhere in sight, although his leather jacket graced the back of my couch. 

"Hazuki?" I called as I opened the case. Sterilizing pads and gauze greeted me. Good…that was about all either of us really needed. 

He looked up from behind the refrigerator door, and I scowled at him. "Did I say you could eat my food?"

He heaved a sigh at my incivility. "I was just looking. Teenage boys get hungry, you know."

I chose not to answer, grabbing up the remote and turning on the television instead. A popular game show was broadcasting, showing scantily dressed women flirting with accountants. It was a geek's dream come true. At least, I thought so. But then again, I'd always been a little elitist.

Ryo came over to sit on the other end of the couch, happily attacking an apple. "Hey! I love this show."

"Figures," I snorted. 

He seemed surprised, and hurt, but he didn't answer. I counted out the packets before offering him half. He took them, shooting me a look as he did so. It could best be described as a 'sad puppy face', full of unvoiced longing. Only a heart of stone could have resisted it successfully. I pretended that I hadn't seen it. 

He bit firmly into his apple before pulling his shirt over his head. I gasped as I saw his skin. It was mottled with bruises. Regretfully, I realized that I had been the cause of several of them. 

He looked up at me, catching my eyes dead on. Too embarrassed to turn my head, I continued to stare at him.

He grinned weakly as he began to wipe his skin with a moistened pad. "It's not as bad as it looks. I'm a little thin-skinned."

"You're telling me."

__

Shssshshhh…the pad whispered over his skin as he ran it over his biceps and down his arms. I squirmed uncomfortably and he glanced my way. "Is it cold in here?"

"Probably," I answered, glad for a chance to get away for at least a little bit. The couch squeaked as he also stood. I retreated to the area near my bed and got out a space heater. It wasn't quite as good as central heating, but it would do, and nicely. I set the heater to blow in the general direction of the couch, when a splotch on my sleeve caught my attention. Blood…whose? My own? A Mad Angel's? Ryo's? I removed my coat jacket, tie and shirt, examining them all thoroughly. Ugh…they all needed washing. I thought about my slacks, but decided against it for the time being. There was no way I was going to undress further right now. So I folded my clothes neatly and packed them in a dry-cleaning sack. I could deal with it tomorrow.

"Gui Zhang." He came up to me so softly that only his voice proved he was there at all. "May I borrow some stuff to sleep in, and a towel? I need a shower."

"Sure," I answered without looking his way. "You can get clothes from the dresser, and the towels are in the bathroom."

He brushed past me to open the wardrobe, but stopped and gasped. "What happened to your back?"

I scrooged down my back to see. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a pattern of purple slashes marring my skin. I shrugged. "While you were fighting Pedro, some of the Mad Angels held me down and beat me."

He looked aghast.

"Don't worry about it," I continued offhandedly. "They paid for it. In spades."

He winced. "It must be so painful."

"Not really." I was lying, but I couldn't bear much more of those soft brown eyes running over me. "Hurry up and shower. I need one too."

He went, and I sat down on my bed. This hadn't been such a brilliant idea after all. I had tried to be a little nicer than usual for once, and look where I was. Catty-corned with someone that I couldn't look at straight without shaking like a schoolgirl on her first date. 

I had no idea how long I had been sitting there before he emerged, clad in a white t-shirt and navy blue boxers. I looked down at my hands as he walked by me. "Is there any hot water left?"

"Should be," he replied, retrieving his forgotten snack and seating himself on the couch again. I hurried into the steamy bathroom, anxious to forget just how anxious I felt. No matter how bad my day had been, a hot shower almost never failed to make me forget all my troubles. So it was only natural that it should fail me at this point. I came out cleaner, but with a knot in my stomach. Ryo looked up from the television. "I got a blanket from your closet. Do you mind?"

"What for?"

He seemed puzzled by the question. "Well…I was going to sleep on the couch…"

"It's too cold," I interrupted. "Sleep in the bed."

The look on his face became comical. "What? Where will you sleep?"  
"On the other side of the bed."

He shook his head quickly. "No way. I'll stay here."

"Suit yourself. But I'm telling you it's too cold over there. Your feet will freeze."

He looked at me, trying to gauge my intentions. "I –"

I walked over to the bed and pulled back the covers on the left side. "I'm going to sleep against the wall. If you want to, you can have the right side. Get some rest." I flipped the lights off, leaving him to watch whatever it was he was watching. 

Gradually, the room became a little chillier. I noticed only because my ears were always the first to feel the effects of cold weather. They began to tingle, then to burn. The temperature was dropping drastically. I sat up, a little disoriented by the sudden sense of restlessness I felt. I looked to the right, and faintly saw a large lump beneath the covers. "Hazuki?"

He stirred before blinking awake. "It got too cold on the couch."

I allowed the side of my mouth to twitch. 

"Don't say anything, or I'll touch you with my feet."

"Don't you dare." I lay back down, trying to relax. I felt too jumpy. He was just out of reach, a mere twenty-four inches away.

The sheets rustled as he readjusted himself, burying his face into the feather pillow. "What time is it?"

I didn't have my watch on, but I didn't need it. "It's about three a.m."

"Mmm." He fell asleep again shortly, and so did I.

Once more during the early morning I woke him up by squeezing his shoulder to ask him if he was warm enough, and he assured me that he was indeed. I went back to sleep, too tired to move again.

The morning greeted our sleeping forms soon thereafter, its rays bathing the little room in soft gold. 

I woke up with a jerk. The room that I was in was so unfamiliar, smelling strongly of salt and men's cologne. The bed felt all wrong, and there was something warm pressing into my shoulder. I pulled the thick woolen bedclothes away to find a man's hand resting on my left shoulder. Not knowing quite what to think, I brushed the hand away, and the arm that it was attached to slid back under the covers. The other person in the bed rolled over, stealing all of the sheets.

Cold and fully alert now, I draped my legs over the side of the rapidly cooling bed, still not quite sure where I was. I remembered the fight with the Mad Angels, and I recalled Gui Zhang's offer to patch me up. Beyond that things were hazy. 

A grumbling moan behind me warned me that the bed's other occupant was awake. I turned back, heart full of hope and fear. "Gui Zhang?"

His head moved around for a while before he actually roused himself. "Good morning."

I looked at my watch. "Man. I gotta get going."

"So soon?" he mumbled, getting out of the bed. I averted my eyes quickly; he was nearly nude. I didn't want to start my day _that_ way! "Stay for a little bit and eat something."

I considered. Did I want to? Definitely. Was it wise? Hardly. Nonetheless, I agreed and he grunted. "You like cinnamon tea?"

"Sure." I got up to make some as he dressed himself. As I moved around the tiny kitchenette, I thought about how puzzling this whole situation really was. Why was the only relationship in my life that I wasn't completely butchering the only one that was impossible to resolve? I couldn't tell my family, my friends, that I was in love with a man twelve years my senior.

Shuffling footsteps behind me, and the smell of sweet tobacco, made me look backwards. He was standing in the space between the bar and refrigerator, effectively blocking me in. He was smoking a clove cigarette nonchalantly, clad solely in a pair of faded denim jeans that were a little too big for him; as such, they sat low on his hips. His hair was loose and limp, and hung directly in his face. He looked about ten years younger. I wrinkled my forehead. "Isn't it too cold to be going shirtless?"

"That's what the space heater's for," he said as he blew smoke from his nostrils. "You gonna make that tea or what?"

Trying to concentrate on the matter at hand, I nodded. "Strong?"

"Sure."

The teapot was whistling cheerfully in no time, as I prepared two bowls of miso ramen, with slices of sashimi arranged on top. The smoke from his cigarette filled the area, and I looked at him doubtfully. "I didn't know you smoked."

"I've cut back a lot. I used to go through two packs a day. Now I'm down to about half a pack. Father's pushing me really hard to quit."

I set his bowl in front of him, and handed him a cup of hot tea, and neither of us spoke again as we began to eat.

I'm not a terribly good cook, but I liked how the food tasted, and Gui Zhang complimented me on it as well. He washed the breakfast dishes and put them away, and I sat on a corner of the counter to be out of his way as he swept the floor. There was no dust about, yet he cleaned meticulously. I would have never pegged him for a neat freak. Shows how good I am at reading people.

He set the broom aside at last, kneeling down to examine a cabinet door, and I caught another glimpse of his beaten back. The bruises were turning an ugly yellowish-green…but that was a good sign. It meant that they were healing with no complications. Without even thinking twice, I slid down and walked up behind him, running my fingers over his skin.

The muscles in his shoulders tightened violently, and he hissed. "Hazuki, what the hell are you doing?"

"Just…looking," I murmured. "Do these hurt?"

"No," he muttered. "Don't keep touching them."

I straightened up. "Let me get a sterile pad, then." I walked away, ignoring his commands to do no such thing. When I returned, his face had gained in austerity. Despite myself, I grinned, for once thoroughly enjoying my innate ability to push his buttons. "C'mon, Gui Zhang. You might get infected otherwise."

His eyes flared for a moment, and I laughed to myself. Checkmate.

Grumbling audibly, he turned himself about, resting his hands on the preparation counter. I leaned over his back, staring at the discolored skin as I ran a cool strip of gauze over it. 

The muscles in his arms stood out like bars of steel as his head began to droop. His hair spilled onto the countertop like strands of black silk. My fingers burned to stroke it. 

His breath caught in his throat. "Ryo…you…"

My mouth went dry. He had never called me by my first name before.

The tension in his upper body must have reached breaking point, as he suddenly melted, collapsing in a soft heap on the cool marble. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his eyes slowly close, and I fought myself. I had offered to treat his wounds; nothing more. 

But the temptation to hold him, caress him, kiss him, had become almost overwhelming…

We were both startled back into the harshness of reality by a sharp rap at the door. Gui Zhang stood up, all traces of vulnerability gone. "Father?"

"Gui Zhang, I need you in the warehouse. Our paperwork is over at Warehouse 8 in the Shipping District again, and we must finish reevaluating inventory."

He twisted his mouth in a familiar way that I had come to know well. "I'll be out shortly, sir." He turned to regard me.

My disappointment must have shown in my eyes. He heaved a resigned sigh and shrugged carelessly. "Look, if you're really determined to go to Hong Kong, I'll talk to my father. Call me in a few hours."

It took me a few moments to really comprehend his offer. I had become so inwardly focused that I had nearly forgotten my father…and Lan Di. "I will."

He walked away in the direction of his closet, clearly wanting to get dressed for work. I stood in the kitchen, trying to recollect my scattered senses. The soft whisper of clothes brushing skin warned me that my presence would soon become a nuisance, and I grabbed my jacket and jeans from the back of the couch. It was a good thing that I hadn't remained there as well; they felt stiff with cold. I knelt down to tie my sneakers and saw a pair of patent leather shoes coming my way.

When I stood, he was standing right there, fully dressed and as professional as ever. "Come on. It sounds like my father's upstairs in the office, so if you stay close to the wall, you should be able to get out without getting caught. Don't forget to call me, okay?"

"Yeah." He turned away to walk towards the door, and I followed. "Gui Zhang."

He stopped. "What?"

"Thank you. For everything."

He turned back and looked deeply into my eyes for a moment, before turning away again. "I think that's my line."

True to his word, Gui Zhang had spoken with his father, arranging for my passage to Hong Kong on one of their many merchant ships. And adding to my surprise, he had also convinced his father to allow him a sabbatical, in order to accompany me. He claimed that my recklessness worried him, but I couldn't help but wonder otherwise. I successfully kept myself from grinning, though, and Master Yobun Chen continued his instructions, when a sharp _snap_ above our heads made us all look up. Horrified, I watched a steel beam plummet towards my head. 

A violent shove removed me from harm's way, but I heard a dull _thud_ behind me, and then a grunt of pain. I knew all too well whose voice that was, and my heart sank, engulfed by chagrin. I cursed silently as I prepared to face Chai.

Our fight concluded with his defeat. Still, it was cold comfort. Master Chen knelt by his son, who lay on the ground in a crumpled heap. I ran over to them, choking on my sobs. "Gui Zhang."

He moved, groaned, and lay still. I bit my lip to keep from crying. "This is all my fault." 

He wasn't going with me after all. My dreams lay as cold and unfeeling as the girder that had separated us. Growing, blooming just three hours ago, they had imploded and died before my eyes. A rage filled my heart, a rage that I had only known once before.

"Hazuki." The mildness of his voice cut through the bitterness threatening to swallow my soul alive. "Don't worry about me. I'll heal. You go. And take care of yourself."

Master Chen agreed with his son, handing me a letter of introduction. "This will be useful once you get to Hong Kong. Although my son cannot travel injured, he will follow you once he has healed. Take care of yourself, and return to us alive."

I nodded, and bowed to each of them respectfully before boarding the ship. They watched me leave, and the anger I had felt for so long filtered itself into one concentrated, leaden drop of sorrow that sat in the bottom of my heart. 

I left Japan the same day as Nozomi, who had left for Canada. Her love for me was plain as day, and it grieved me to know that I could never return it. I did not love her in the way she deserved, and I was too cowardly to simply tell her so. I had left behind the remains of my family, for a quest that could quite possibly end my life. I had grown apart from my friends in my search for vengeance. Now, the one man who genuinely understood my pain, and who would have supported me fully, was gone, ripped away.

A strong wind blew against my face, making me shiver. As I closed my fists, I found the amulet that Nozomi had given me when we parted ways. It brought me renewed inspiration, along with some comfort to know that people were hoping, praying, for my safe return. I vowed silently to fulfill their wishes, and return safely to Japan. 

The boat steamed on as I looked up into the darkening sky. A lone star, bright enough to be seen even through daylight, twinkled at me. It pulled the pain from my heart, and transformed it into hope. The hope of answers, and closure, lay before me. Breathing deeply, I allowed my destiny to take me where it pleased.


	4. So Far Away

China was nothing like I expected it to be. It was full of scam artists and people looking for a quick buck. The strain of day to day living threatened to distract me from my quest, but it taught me discipline, along with helping me make new friends. Every time that I saw Xiuying and Fangmei, I thought of Megumi and Tama, but when I tried to explain it to her, she was highly offended. It was just as well. I had never been very good at really telling people how I felt about them.

My quest led me into dangerous territory more often than not, eventually requiring me to befriend a notorious criminal named Ren. Only one year older than myself, he was years ahead of me in street experience. He was also greedy and impatient, which made our friendship rather tenuous at times. 

I butted heads with an old nemesis of his, Dou Niu. The resulting fight ended with Ren and myself being handcuffed together and thrown into a cell. The next three days were trying, to say the least. I spent a lot of time meditating, to maintain my focus, but also to block out his whining. At last, we worked out a plan to escape, which was foiled when we took a wrong turn and ended up on the roof of the building that we were trying to leave.

We spent that night under the stars, and I opened up to him, a little. The release of my heart was not something that I took lightly, and I was cautious concerning how much I told him. He listened, barely, and we slept chained together.

The next day, I awoke to Ren's hand brushing my shoulder. It brought back memories of that night, so long ago.

__

So long ago…what if he had forgotten all about me?

I couldn't stand to think in that vein. I woke Ren, and we made our escape good.

A few days later, I was listening to wiretapped conversations, still looking for clues. They were few and far between, and I was willing to take any leads. One tape of sixteen proved fruitful, and we were onto the next target.

Later that evening, I finished listening to the tape, paying careful attention to the final conversation. A new friend of mine, Joy, had made a long distance call to Japan, and the call had been intercepted. I listened, somewhat enviously, as she spoke with Gui Zhang. He was just as stern with her as he had always been with me. The sound of his voice triggered so many memories, good and bad. I missed him so much.

"I met a really interesting guy. He's Japanese."

His voice slowed perceptibly. "Interesting Japanese guy?" Apparently they weren't too common in Kowloon.

"Yeah. He's real serious. Like a samurai."

His voice caught; his breath sounded forced. "A samurai?…"

The phone went silent for several seconds before Joy inquired as to his change in mood. He answered slowly. "It's…nothing." A sigh, and he went on. "I…knew someone like that. Once."

"Really?" Her voice was growing eager. "What was he like?"

"Uh…" He stammered, buying time. "I'm sorry, Joy, someone just walked in. I have to go."

The conversation was clearly at an end, and after sending salutations to Master Yobun Chen, Joy hung up.

I pressed "stop", and stared at my folded hands for some time. There was still feeling there. There was still hope. 

That hope, combined with all the rest of the encouragement that I had received, strengthened me. I would keep my promises, and return to those who were waiting for me.

Every one of them.


End file.
